


Sleep Therapy

by Entwife_Incognito



Category: The Mentalist
Genre: F/M, Healing, Hurt/Comfort, Insomnia, Romance, Workplace Relationship, smutty smut smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-20
Updated: 2016-10-20
Packaged: 2018-08-23 15:00:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 13,916
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8332201
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Entwife_Incognito/pseuds/Entwife_Incognito
Summary: Jane and Lisbon have a lot of healing to do after the hunt, chase and demise of Red John. Their partnership is more important than ever. Their method of healing is uniquely theirs, but who better to decide than a pair so committed to one another? Three chapters. Rated ‘E.’ Disclaimer: I don’t own anything about The Mentalist.This story was originally posted at FFnet on September 18, 2013. Now here with minor edits to improve readability.





	1. Chapter 1

Fire filled his brain, stealing every thought, every attempt at reason. There was only fear. It blinded him to everything except its source. He was so close but couldn't find his way. Noises that were not the whooshes, crackles and creaks of fire seemed to come from everywhere, disorienting, distracting. He supposed it was the metal building heated and stressed as it tried to stay together under the immolating onslaught.  


Red John had trapped them and set this fire, as tortuous as any death he devised. Slow, irresistible, relentless. Hungry for oxygen. That was its biggest threat to them right now. It seemed to feed itself, slowly as if by a line into a vein. It was more than half a room away, but the room was an open warehouse floor, empty except for Teresa Lisbon, unconscious against the wall behind him, and Patrick Jane himself. It moved quickly, fed with stream by stream of accelerant shooting from nozzles laid at the seam of wall and floor. It progressed like unending phalanxes of warriors, flaring in wall after impenetrable wall. They would be suffocated or slow-roasted alive before the cremating flame ever consumed them.  


Jane retreated to check on Lisbon, pulling her gun from its holster and considering whether he had the courage to end their lives rather than allow a tortuous death by fire. There had to be another way, but as long as his mind was taken by fire, processing the problem was impossible. As much as he hated to use it, he had to slow down his thinking and use the precious time in order to have even a slim chance to save them.  


Closing his smoke-watered eyes sent tears through the soot on his cheeks, tracking them along the sides of his mouth to his chin. He focused his attention there, forcing the nerves of his cheeks to feel the warm roll of a tear, the cooling path it left behind as it evaporated on his skin, the tickle as it dropped from the edge of his face, the next tear trailing the same track.  


The only hope was behind them, a sheetrock wall. In his mind, he inventoried its features. There was a water spigot without a handle in the corner. He had a gun in his hand. Its bullets and even its butt could be used as a bludgeon. Water. He needed water to delay everything else.  


Checking quickly on Lisbon, he found she was still breathing, under the effects of whatever drug cocktail Red John had pumped into her, but her bleeding had finally stopped. The copious flow of blood made no sense given the non-lethal nature of the random shallow cuts on her arms and neck. Perhaps there were blood-thinners in the mix, designed to make hopeless any attempt to staunch the flow. At least that devilish attempt had failed. For now. No telling what any effort to move her would do.  


Jane went to the wall and started kicking it immediately above the spout with all his might, willing to be unconscious of the pain to his foot and knee. He figured it would be weakest at the hole made to route the pipe through, and he was right! It cracked in no time and he pried hunks of it away with his hands. Then he began stomping the spigot itself, immense blows that he couldn't feel because all his concentration was on breaking a fitting or attachment somewhere that would start water flowing. A few more blows and he heard the rending creak of metal and the spew of water and saw a puddle begin to form near his feet. One more stomp, and the full force of water from a broken pipe wet him to his knees and filled his shoes.  


Dragging Lisbon to the blessed fountain, he laid her out on her back, soaking her hair and clothes, then rolled her to her stomach to finish the job. She groaned as he manipulated her body, but it did not deter him. Then he did the same for himself. It was an industrial force of water. It sopped and weakened the sheetrock it showered and Jane pulled more of it loose, hoping it would be part of another wall to another room and possible freedom. When he had pulled enough away to wedge his body between the joists, he shoved his weight against the facing wall. Sheetrock! And it gave way, cracking and pulling away from its fastenings as he channeled the bull in him that would not give up.  


Walking through, he breathed fresh, cool air in a clean room with a door to the outside! He couldn't move back to the oven fast enough. Dragging Lisbon through as gently as he could, tearing her clothes as they snagged on floor and joist fasteners. As he pulled her into the safe room, a smeary but small blood trail told that some of her tender unprotected skin must have been snagged. Jane gently turned her to inspect the damage. As he suspected, small tears in her pants had reached her skin at the buttocks and calves. They should not bleed so much, but there was nothing life threatening compared to the blood she'd already lost.  


Tapping her cheeks and smoothing her hair, Jane tried to wake her but she only moaned deep inside and from far away. He tried to clean the mix of blood, soot, sweat and tears from her face, but his own hands were so grimy, they only smeared her like some grotesque finger-painting. He allowed himself a few sobs at seeing her terrible condition. Then reminding himself she still lived, he turned his attention to the door.  


It was a normal door, locked from the outside but no match for the bludgeoning butt of a gun. Stepping through the threshold, the world looked normal. Trees. Sky. Sun. Clouds. Dirt. Well, there were the billowing black clouds of smoke fuming from licking orange flame of the fire set loose on them as it consumed the building. But it looked far from dangerous now.  


The door was a side or back exit with a narrow slab of cement that ran the length of the building from either side, a kind of sidewalk, not a real working entrance that would have a parking lot or a driveway. Jane breathed a sigh of relief. At least they might not be watched for here and it was not a place for normal traffic. This time he carried Lisbon in his arms, telling her she was safe now, that he was with her and how happy he was to be alive with her. At first Jane was sure she was not responding, but then he felt her head snug against his neck without his help and his heart leapt with joy at even such a small sign of her returning consciousness.  


Carrying her into a dense copse of trees, he followed his instinct to keep them both hidden. Their cell phones had been taken and he knew neither who might still be nearby nor whether there would be an official friendly response to the fire. He had no idea where they were. Suddenly he had the freedom to focus completely on what he wanted to. Teresa.  


Laying her gently on the soft leaf litter, he removed her jacket and examined the full length of her arms, pale against the dark green of her tank top. Slowly leaking knife cuts. Needle marks, as he expected. Even they had trails of blood from the IV, or whatever had punctured her and then been removed without dressing the wounds. His stomach lurched in acid and his throat in bile as a gorge of hate rose in him. Why dress the wounds of someone you're killing in moments, anyway?  


There were no cuts on her stomach or back. He was torn between removing her pants or respecting her modesty and leaving them on. Inspecting the cloth of her tight jeans, he found nothing beyond the wounds he had inflicted himself while dragging her through the wall. No blood soaking through anywhere. That left the blood at her neck and chest and the gash in her head from when she had been thrown unconscious to the cement floor of the burning warehouse. There was a sizeable lump on the side, almost at the back of her skull, and the skin was ruptured and oozing, matting her beautiful hair. Jane was worried more about the blow she had suffered than the cut.  


The neck wounds also appeared minor, as if Red John had been interrupted in his plan to slowly slice her alive, and tossed her in to share Jane's fate at the last minute.  


Removing his jacket, he took off his wet shirt also and used it to clean Lisbon's face, revealing her creamy skin, so pale underneath her freckles. He decided not to clean the cuts for fear of destroying any clotting that may have taken place and restart the flow of blood.  


"Teresa." He patted the side of her cheek. "Teresa. Lisbon!" He saw her eyes roll under the lids but they stayed closed.  


"Teresa. Try to wake up. You've been drugged and you have a bump on your head, but you're going to be okay. Just please, wake up."  


Feeling so relaxed, floating who knew where without a care, a dull pain whispered at the edge of Lisbon's mind. Was it in her body? From somewhere else? Someone else? She didn't want it. She fought to distance herself, float far away, but something wouldn't let her go. It was a familiar noise, comforting in a way, but attending to it brought the dull pain along. Ow! That was definitely her arm and someone had pinched it. She pulled it away from the offending party.  


"That's good, Lisbon! Wake up now. Come back."  


She tried to move away and say, 'Leave me alone!' but her mouth wouldn't work. Somebody had her hands now, patting them. Kissing them? So warm and soft. But oh, that pain! Was that her head? It was making her stomach feel sick. 'Stop! Stop!' The words were only in her head.  


But Jane wouldn't stop. Seeing her struggle and feebly try to move away fed his hope and made him try harder. He saw her stomach muscles starting to contract and heave, so quickly rolled her to her side as she began to vomit and cough. Patting her back, he encouraged her to get it all out, then rubbed her back to soothe her, worrying that vomiting after a head wound was not a good sign. It seemed to be mostly bile and no blood at all. It could be her system reacting to the drugs. He would hope for that.  


Lisbon started to moan and flail her arm, trying to get at the source of the pain that she had now located as being in her head somewhere. Jane pulled her onto his lap to cradle her in his arms, effectively restricting her movement. He talked to her softly about the trees and the sunshine dappling through, the refreshing breezes that would wake her in a moment if she would focus on them as if they were her breath. She sighed and Jane kissed her temple in relief, a touch so light that Lisbon could not feel it.  


"That's it. Just breathe with the breezes and you'll come back to me. C'mon, Lisbon."  


Jane watched her eyelids try to flutter open and finally succeed, her eyes unfocused. "Lisbon? Do you hear me?"  


"Jane?"  


"Yes! Yes! It's me! You're waking up."  


"Let me go back to sleep. My head hurts."  


"No, Lisbon. Stay awake. The fire department and paramedics are bound to show up very soon now. No way a fire this big could escape notice. Somebody will have reported it."  


"Fire? All I remember is . . ." Lisbon screamed and frantically tried to escape Jane's hold, far too feeble to be successful. "Red John! It's Red John! Don't come in here, Jane! No! Nooooo." She started to sob at an awful memory, confusing it with current reality.  


"No, no, no. Lisbon, we're safe for now. I don't know where he is, but something interrupted him and he fled. We're safe now, little brave heart. We're okay."  


"Jane! He tried to . . . I don't know what happened. It's all dark."  


"You were drugged. You probably won't ever remember what happened after that. But you're safe now."  


"Did he . . . did he . . . " She couldn't finish the horrific question. Instead she tried to sense every part of her body for a sexual violation. She was so clammy and sweaty and sore, still so disoriented, that it was hard to make sense of anything. It didn't feel sexual, but she just couldn't be sure. Exhausted, she started to cry. Sorrow and exhaustion.  


"I don't know, Lisbon. I don't think so." He tried to hug her in their awkward position. "I think he was interrupted before he could really . . . do anything. But you're alive, Lisbon. You're here and you're going to stay that way. Okay?"  


She nodded, but couldn't stop crying. Jane patted her, saying, "It's okay. Just cry. You have a lot to cry about." In a moment he joined her, sobbing his sorrow for everything hurt in his life but especially for Lisbon and what he had put her through, even what she had willingly put herself through, on his behalf. There was such relief that they were alive together again, but all he could say was, "I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry."  


That's how the rest of the team found them, a broken and grimy mess, soaked with water, blood and soot, tear tracks like canyons down their helpless faces, Jane asleep against a tree with Lisbon in his arms, her hands on his as they lay entwined across her belly. They had slept through the clamor of fire vehicles and personnel, sheltered in the copse, hushed in the muffled sounds of the trees and absorbent cushion of forest litter.  


Lisbon vomited again in the ambulance and lost consciousness. Cho was riding with her and hollered, "Step on it!" The driver stomped the gas and jolted them as the spinning tires screamed until they had fully gripped the road.  


Jane, in another ambulance, was inconsolable, calling for Lisbon, telling Rigsby who was with him, "Don't let him get her! Red John! He'll try to get her again! Rigsby, let me be with her! Someone needs to protect her! Rigsby!"  


"Jane! Listen to me!" Rigsby couldn't seem to get Jane's attention. Finally, in desperation, he screamed, "Shut up!"  


Shocked into silence, Jane looked at him, dumbfounded. He'd never heard Rigsby talk like that.  


"Jane. Good. Listen to me. Red John is dead. All right? Red John is dead. He can't hurt Lisbon, or anybody, any more. You hear me?" Jane just stared at him. It was spooky. "Nod if you hear me, Jane."  


Jane slowly nodded. "Dead? How?"  


"Shot him myself. We tracked him to that warehouse. When he figured out we were coming, he fled. But it was too late for him. He wouldn't give up, started firing. I plugged him good in the forehead. He's never waking up again, Jane. You get me? I did it myself, so you can believe me."  


Jane nodded again, then looked Rigsby in the eyes. "Thank you. Thank you, Rigsby, for ending that worthless twisted piece of shit! Thank you!" Offering his right hand, he was grateful when Rigsby took it and shook it firmly.  


"Sure, man. No problem." He grinned. "I thought you'd be pissed as hell that I didn't save him for you!"  


"No. No. That's all over. Just so he's gone. I don't care about anything else anymore. You . . . and Lisbon . . and Cho and Grace. You helped me avenge my family. I can never repay you."  


"Nothing to repay, Jane. We're a team, right? What we do, we do for all. I'm proud to be the one who personally put the bastard down for you!"  


"I'll never forget it."  


"Fine. Just get well and get on with your life, okay?"  


"Yeah. Where's Lisbon? I want to see Lisbon!"  


Rigsby rolled his eyes. "I'll take you to her as soon as you're cleared at the hospital."  


"No! I want to see her as soon as I get there! She needs me!"  


Rigsby sighed. "Are you sure it's not the other way around, man? I'll do my best, but we have to see to her needs first."  


Jane lowered his head, checked by Rigsby's good sense. "Yes. Of course. Of course, Rigsby. Lisbon's welfare first."  


"All right, then. Steady on, okay? Now lie down and enjoy the ride."  


"Okay."  


Rigsby studied Jane's face as the man laid back and closed his eyes. What a wreck! Streaked and smudged with soot, his cheeks laced with at least three sets of tear-tracks and snot congealing at his upper lip under his nostrils. What had the man had gone through to save himself and Lisbon? Rigsby suspected that Jane's struggle and emotional collapse was more for Lisbon than himself. For the first time, Agent Rigsby allowed himself to see that Patrick Jane was in love with Boss. The weight of it hit him-- the kind of love you learn about in myth and epic novels. He was glad for the man. And for Boss.  


Teresa Lisbon heard someone murmuring at her ear. She hated to wake up, but she felt well-rested and her body wanted to stretch. As she indulged it, she heard the words again, "My fault. My fault."  


Opening her eyes, she slowly turned her head to see Patrick Jane's sleeping face next to hers, crooked at a horrible angle from the chair he sat in at the side of her bed. There was a little pool of drool under his mouth and another of snot and even another of apparent tears under his crusted eyes, all dripping from him as he endured whatever terrible dream he was having. He snuffled, probably unable to breathe properly at that angle and with his nose so stuffy from his dreaming cry.  


"Jane," she said softly. "Jane, wake up. You're dreaming."  


When he didn't move, Lisbon rolled to her side and stroked his cheek, pushing damp curls from his sweaty face. She could feel that her head was bandaged and she had a mild headache, but nothing she couldn't handle.  


She couldn't resist kissing his forehead and was delighted to see him smile and hear him sigh contentedly. "Pa-trick," she sang softly. "Wakey, wakey."  


"Uuunnnhh." He yawned softly and opened his eyes to his most favorite sight, Lisbon looking at him with her great green emerald eyes. "Lisbon. You're awake!"  


"Yes. It's daytime. Why so surprised?"  


Jane raised his head from the mattress. "You've been unconscious for three days! How do you feel?"  


"Like I've had the best sleep of my life. I feel good. I remember someone saying Red John is dead?"  


Nodding, he said, "Yes. Rigsby shot him in the head."  


"Oh." Lisbon scanned his face cautiously. "And you feel . . . how . . . about that."  


"Great! Our team got him!"  


Lisbon couldn't help giving him an irritated double take. "You'd better wipe that big goofy smile off your face, Buster! After all the hell you've put me through all of these years that I'd better not get him! 'Red John is mine!'" she ended, deepening her voice to mock him. "You ass! You're going to pay for this!"  


His sheepish grin couldn't dull the delighted, teasing sparkle in his eyes. "Now, Lisbon. Don't get so excited. You just woke up. Remember?"  


She slid her hand along the mattress to connect with the soft flesh of his arm. She noticed the scratches and bruises but she pinched it anyway, hard!  


"OW! What the hell, Lisbon? What was that for?"  


"Get used to it. That's just the beginning of my payback. Anyway, I seem to remember somebody pinching me and telling me to wake up!"  


Jane rubbed his arm. "And it worked, too."  


"Fine."  


"Fine. Don't be mad. I've been waiting for you to wake up. Don't be mad at me."  


She smiled and stroked his cheek again. "I'm not. Thank you for saving my life."  


He smiled again. So much warmth in the way he looked at her!  


"Now, go clean your face, Jane. You're a mess."  


When he made his way toward the bathroom, Lisbon noticed Jane's foot was wrapped and he walked stiffly as if his knee might be braced. Obviously minor injuries, but they would bear watching and taking care of himself. She would have to stay on him. Lisbon called out, "And, Jane . . . "  


"Yes?"  


"It's not your fault. None of this is your fault. It's Red John's fault. And he's dead. Okay?"  


"Yeah. Sure. I hope I can believe that some day."  


"I'll help you."  


"I'd like that."  


There was a different atmosphere at the office and it wasn't just the team's triumph at the capture of Red John. Jane and Lisbon often found themselves alone together. There was no sense of the others avoiding them. It seemed kinder than that, softer, as if they were being given a space to be together. A special allowance for their special relationship. Far from being embarrassing, it felt good, their approval of Jane and Lisbon's need, a gift. Because they did need to be together. The experience Lisbon and Jane had shared at the end was singular, understood best by them. Neither wanted to be far from the other's side. Each just felt calmer, happier, safer, to know the other was in sight.  


Nights were the hardest. Lisbon had returned to work as soon as her release from the hospital and seemed to be fine at first. But as that first week drew on, both she and Jane were obviously suffering from nights of sleeplessness.  


Jane felt it as a keen need to be at Lisbon's side and he suffered the night grievously, pacing and trying just to doze, often unsuccessfully. Even then, dark dreams haunted him, waking him in sweat, his stomach clenched, and calling for Lisbon.  


Lisbon had given up trying to sleep the last few days, driven from her bed by nightmares with nameless ghouls hunting her at every turn as she tried to get to Jane, knowing his life was at stake and she needed to save him. The past two nights she had driven to the parking lot of Jane's motel and finally found the relief of slumber, staring at his door and watching his shadow walk back and forth inside. She figured her credentials would cover for any police interest that might occur for loitering in the middle of the night in her car.  


Jane walked into her office, looking worn and disheveled. Lisbon was sure she looked no better. This had to be resolved. She got up as he collapsed on her couch and shut the door.  


"You're going to have to move over at least enough to give me the other end."  


"Hmmmmm?" He didn't open his eyes.  


"I want a nap, too. I can't sleep, Jane."  


"So I've been noticing. Bad dreams? You had them from the minute you woke up and the whole time you were in the hospital." Turning to his side, he curled up to make room for Lisbon at the other end.  


"Yes." She crumpled into a heap, head on the arm of the sofa. "Jane?"  


"Hmmmmm?"  


"I'm always trying to get to you, make sure you're safe."  


"What? Lisbon. Why didn't you tell me? Why didn't you call?"  


"In the middle of the night? You're not looking any better than I am. Are you having bad dreams, too?"  


"Sure. It's nothing new, really, as far as a sleep pattern, although the content is new. Mostly, I just don't sleep at all. When I do, I wake up calling for you."  


"I guess it's the trauma."  


"I guess." He knew it was more than that. But after all she'd been through for him, he would not burden her with one more thing. This felt different. She was sharing something very personal here, about her feelings for him, at least the ones related to the trauma they had suffered together.  


"So, I can call you, then?"  


"Sure. Anytime, Lisbon. Day or night."  


"And you can call me, too."  


"That would be really nice."  


"We'll just have to deal with it, if it becomes a problem waking each other up every night."  


"Yeah. We'll figure it out."  


They usually talked two or three times a night after that, and both appeared to be better rested and certainly comforted at the open connection. It was about a week later when Lisbon called with an edge of panic to her tearful voice. He could hardly talk to her she was so distraught and firing the details of her dream at him so fast he couldn't catch them all.  


Finally, Lisbon blurted out, sobbing, "I want to come to your parking lot, Jane, and watch your shadow move back and forth across the window to be sure you're alive!" she cried, exhausted and not caring what he thought.  


Something in Jane's heart wrenched as she begged this of him. Parking lot? Had she actually done this? Didn't she know she could come to him at any time and he would do his best to make her feel safe and comforted? "Come over, right now. Only come in and see me all safe. Right now, Lisbon. And I have something I want you to hear. It'll be all right. You'll see. Everything will be all right, Lisbon. I'll be looking for you. We'll have some tea."  


There was silence on Lisbon's end.  


"Are you coming?"  


"Yes. I'll be there in just a few minutes."  


"Don't try to change or anything. Just come as you are, okay?"  


"Well, I'll make some allowances for decency."  


"Now, don't tease me, Lisbon. Just get over here."  


She chuckled softly. "Okay."  


Jane was watching for her from his window and opened the door before she knocked.  


"Sit. Sit." He indicated a chair by the table at the window.  


The kettle was already on the boil and soon they were drinking chamomile tea, its sweet fragrance already soothing Lisbon's nerves.  


Lisbon talked about her dream and was relieved when Jane just listened. They had a second cup of tea.  


"You said you had something you wanted me to hear?"  


"Oh! Yes! I've been listening to this song a lot lately. It's a wonderful old standard, but it really says what I've been feeling. And it sounds like you've been feeling it, too."  


He touched a button on his player. She didn't immediately recognize the strains of the lengthy introduction. But when the very familiar body of the song came on, tears fell from her eyes as she looked helplessly at Jane who held out his hand where he stood. Lisbon went to him, leaned into his arms and they slowly danced to "Someone To Watch Over Me." He tucked her closer as they moved.  


"We're going to be all right, Lisbon. You'll see."  


When the song finished, Lisbon hugged him. "Thank you. It's exactly how I feel."  


"Me, too. Lisbon?"  


She looked at him, her face relaxed and smiling.  


"Will you stay? Maybe we can both get some sleep."  


"But—"  


"Sleep, Lisbon. Just sleep. I'd be very grateful. You know you can trust me, right?"  


"Absolutely. No one more."  


"Well, then . . . ?"  


"Thank you. It will be such a relief, Jane. Of course I'll stay."  


Practically flopping themselves into the king-sized bed in exhaustion, there was no thought about who would take which side. Their needs and inclinations were complementary as each took their natural spot on the big bed. Sometime in the night Lisbon, whose legs tended to get hot under the covers if she wore long pants, slid out of her leggings and slept peacefully in her underwear and big, baggy tee. Patrick made a concession to modesty and wore boxers and a tee rather than sleeping in his usual state of nudity, having given up pajamas long ago.


	2. Chapter 2

Jane woke up with Lisbon's forehead against his, breathing her breath, still sweet from the late-night chamomile tea. Her small hand lay on the side of his neck, her fingers rhythmically clutching it in her sleep in that way she had the few times she had returned his hugs in the years that he had known her. He could tell by the movement of her eyes that she was dreaming but she did not whimper or cry out. In fact a small smile played at her lips, bright compared to her fair complexion, her thick dark lashes lying in contrast above her cheek. Jane himself had slept well with no dreaming that he could remember.  


When Lisbon awoke, Jane had already showered, shaved and was in his shirt and trousers, making tea. He heard her moving in the bed and peeked around to see her pull her leggings under the baggy tee shirt. "I slept well. How about you?" he called out.  


"Very well. Not long enough, but very well."  


"You think we should do it again tonight? See if it works for a full night?"  


Lisbon's shoulders relaxed, and she released a long breath she didn't know she'd been holding tight in her chest. "I'm game. My place or yours?"  


"Let's see how it works out. Maybe yours, if you just want to alternate. I wouldn't mind a kitchen."  


"I have a guest room, Jane. I guess I should mention that. But I don't know if even that much separation would work against us." Blushing at the possible implications, she hoped he wouldn't get the wrong idea.  


Jane didn't care if it could get tricky. Maybe he'd welcome the possible complications. "We could try it and see. At least if one of us has a bad night, the other will be only a few steps away."  


"Sounds like a plan."  


As tired as they still were, both Jane and Lisbon felt the relief of having a few good hours of sleep under their belts and the knowledge that they would not be alone again that night and might get a full night's sleep. It was almost like starving people looking forward to their first full meal in months.  


The rest of the team noticed immediately not only that Boss and Jane seemed more rested today, but also seemed easier, less stressed in each other's company. They actually laughed at each other's jokes a couple times without either one becoming irritated. Both incidents resulted in stunned silence from Rigsby and Van Pelt, while Cho responded with a quiet, "Hunh," as if he had learned something.  


Lisbon put together a nice salad for their dinner and took a long hot soak in a tub full of bubbles, daydreaming of getting into bed and falling swiftly into a dreamless sleep.  


Jane unpacked a few things into the guest room and fitted sheets onto the double bed. It looked very comfortable! When he finished his shower in Lisbon's bathroom, the half-bath having none, he left a few toiletries there for convenience and, calling good night, snuggled into the fresh bedding with a contented sigh.  


He woke, sweating and wound in the covers, moaning Lisbon's name.  


"I'm here. I'm here. Wake up, Jane. It's just a bad dream. Here I am."  


Waking, Jane peered at her. "Lisbon. Ohhhhhh," he groaned. "I couldn't get to you. I couldn't find you. The fire! I'm so hot."  


Lisbon smoothed the sweaty hair from his face. "You're wrapped in the bedclothes tighter than a burrito. Here. Let me help you out." She pushed on him to direct his movement as she tugged at various parts of the sheets and comforter. "Good grief! You're soaked with sweat, and the sheets, too! Come on. Get up and come in here with me."  


"Eeeewww. I don't feel so good."  


Lisbon raced to get the wastebasket between his feet, just in time. He vomited dinner while she left, returning with a dampened hand towel. He took it from her to wash his face and neck, breathing heavily. "Oh, that feels better. Feels good on my neck. It's cooling me down."  


Finishing with the towel, he handed it back to her. "I'm sorry, Lisbon. I couldn't help it."  


"Of course you couldn't. Don't worry about it for a minute. You just got too hot. Now, come with me. Let's get you back to sleep as quick as we can." She rifled through the chest of drawers he was using in there and pulled out a new pair of boxers and a clean tee shirt. "Here change out of those and put these on. And wash your mouth; you'll feel a lot better."  


He pulled his damp shirt off and started to take down his boxers.  


"Wait! Let me get out of here before you strip!"  


Jane, still fuzzy, said, "Oh. Sorry. I wasn't thinking. You have quite the voice of command. I just obeyed you without thinking."  


Lisbon looked at him, smirking, before she went out. "I wish I had a recording of this. You. Obeying without a thought. Gotta be a first."  


"Sheep dip," he said, and stuck his tongue out at her. "You're just treating me like your little brothers, and I toed the line like one, Sis."  


"Turn off the lights before you get in bed," she called as she went down the hallway.  


She heard him cleaning out the wastebasket. A few minutes later, she felt Jane crawl up the mattress on his side of the bed, pull down the covers to get in, and then finally sigh himself to sleep. Checking with each other in the morning, both reported restful sleep the remainder of the night.  


"We're getting there, Jane. I'm so glad you thought of this arrangement. Your place, tonight?"  


"Whatever you want, Lisbon. Just so we're together and we can sleep."  


Without thinking, she pecked him on the cheek, said cheerfully, "See you at the office!" and went out the front door.  


Jane stroked his bussed cheek thoughtfully, deciding he liked her instinctual familiarity. A lot. It delighted him to think how it entitled him to return the favor!  


Before the week was out, the team had adjusted to their newer, healthier norm. Rested and happy Jane. Rested and happy Boss. Life was good.  


Cho had it figured out. Staying together, probably sleeping together, no sex yet. He would have noticed both of them, but especially Boss, walking funny after a passionate sexual encounter the explosive likes of which those two would have generated. Putting it off for years. Forget it. They'd both need canes for a while! He smirked at the picture in his mind.  


Van Pelt suspected something, assumed love, no sex yet. Boss didn't have that glow or that loose-hipped walk. She didn't even want to think how a post-coital Jane would walk.  


Even Rigsby couldn't totally miss the confluence of returning health to both Boss and Jane at the same time. Rest. Bed. Rest and bed together? Oh. No, no, no. Think about something else.  


But the topic came to Rigsby anyway in pillow talk with Van Pelt. Grace ran her fingers along Wayne's chest as they relaxed later that night. "You know Boss and Jane are sleeping together, right?"  


"Zheesh, Grace!" He pushed her hand away and sat up against the headboard. "No! I don't know any such thing."  


"Come on. Yes you do."  


"No. Okay. I noticed they started looking well-rested at the same point in time."  


"And that meant nothing to you?"  


"It meant, 'Mind your own business, Wayne,' that's what it meant."  


"O-kay," she responded in a sing-song. "If you don't want to see what's in front of your face . . . "  


"I don't."  


"Van Pelt says Boss and Jane are sleeping together." Rigsby had sidled up to Cho's desk the next morning to deliver the news.  


"Yeah?"  


Rigsby watched Cho closely, hoping to catch at least a hint of some reaction to his statement. None. He continued, "Yeah. I think so, too."  


"Hunh."  


"What do you think?"  


"I think they're sleeping together."  


"Holy shit!"  


"Just sleeping. Nothing else."  


"What? You mean no sex? How can you tell?"  


"I'd rather not say."  


"Why? We're partners, Cho!"  


"It's just wrong to talk about Boss that way. It's not about the job, that's all."  


"Well, if they're sleeping together, don't you think it's going to happen?"  


Turning his head sharply, Cho was a bit incredulous. Did Rigsby really need this spelled out for him? "It's a man and a woman who are in love with each other, sleeping in the same bed. What do you think is going to happen?"  


"In love?"  


Cho stared blankly at him for a moment. "You're hopeless."  


When the weekend arrived, Lisbon and Jane had spent Friday night at her house and she suggested he stay for breakfast. Since they were in no hurry, it was more like brunch and Jane returned home around noon.  


Lisbon felt a little at loose ends without her new half-mate. He was good company, sweet, generous and funny. She confessed to herself that she missed him, but the knowledge that she would meet him at his motel for bedtime comforted her somewhat. While the unusual nature of their arrangement did not escape her, it was _their_ arrangement and it was working. She felt the vigor and energy that came with returning health. Her body didn't have to focus on the basics of survival anymore. There was room for more in life now, and Jane's intelligent, inquisitive and teasing nature filled a lot of the gaps that had been missing from her life for years.  


Jane called her about four o'clock.  


"How about let's go get some dinner and rent a movie on the cable over here tonight?"  


"Good idea! How about a big greasy burger? And some fries with lots of ketchup?"  


There was no immediate answer on the other end.  


"We've been eating healthy all week long, Jane. Don't tell me you think a burger and fries once in awhile is going to hurt?  


"No. I just wanted a real meal. You know, maybe a steak, vegetables, baked potato?"  


"No problem. Pick a steak house. They'll all have great burgers, I'm sure. We'll both be happy."  


She could almost hear his sigh of relief. "Okay, then. Meet me over here about six and we'll go eat. Be thinking about what movie you want to see."  


Lisbon ate her burger with gusto. Jane watched surreptitiously as she packed each big bite, tucking it into her cheek as she slowly whittled it away, stuffing a ketchup-soaked fry into her mouth about halfway through the process. "Mmmmmm," she would say, smiling at him under her chipmunk cheeks and shining emerald eyes, and then take a long slug of her coke, which she had refilled twice. It made him happy to see her have such a good time with her food.  


"You're no pansy-ass with that steak, you know," she told him when she finally caught him smirking at her.  


Jane had just stuffed a hunk of juicy red steak into his face, smiling at the burst to his taste buds. "Pansy-ass?" he managed to muffle out. "What anachronistic treasure chest did you haul that one out of? Pansy-ass. Sheep dip." He gave a little snort and then smiled again. She just grinned.  


Later, as they settled onto the bed for their movie, the carbonation started working its way back up Lisbon's throat, which she controlled with little punctuated sighs. Jane got a fit of giggles listening to it and trumped her by releasing a long, loud belch. "That's burping, Lisbon. Don't tell me you don't know how. You don't have to be polite with me."  


"What a relief!" Lisbon hollowed her throat and mouth, releasing the most disgusting long belch imaginable, then collapsed in laughter.  


"My god! Did that come from your toes? You win. I shudder to think what other kinds of disgusting contests you had with those brothers of yours!" He nudged her shoulder with his.  


"You're right! You don't want to know! Now shush, and watch the movie!"  


"Shush. Another great nugget from the past." He stopped talking, but in a moment muttered, "Pansy-ass. Sheep dip," giving a last high-pitched giggle, ending in a squawk when she elbowed him.  


When Jane awoke the next morning, Lisbon was holding his hand with both of hers, curled on her side with her forehead against his arm. Had she had a bad dream in the night? She looked so childlike and vulnerable in that position. He would have held her if he knew she had been afraid. In fact, he would have loved to hold and comfort her. Reaching with his other hand, he half-rolled to pet her head and muss her hair, waking her enough to let go of him so that he could get up and dress.  


They went out for breakfast, eggs for Jane, pancakes for Lisbon.  


"Did you have a bad dream last night?"  


Lisbon swallowed a modest mouthful of pancakes. "I don't know. Did I?"  


"You were clamped onto my arm this morning with both hands, so I wondered."  


"Oh. Sorry. I hope I didn't wake you."  


"No. I only noticed when I woke up." Jane paused and took a couple swallows of his tea. "I'm only saying, don't be afraid to wake me up if you want to."  


"I would, Jane, I absolutely would. I know you would be good to me. I would be good to you. You can wake me if you need me."  


They both stopped eating long enough to look at each other carefully, trying to ascertain what had just passed between them. It whispered into their hearts, carrying a message of love and a hint of desire.  


"We're healing, Jane."  


He winked. "It's the sleep therapy."  


When she looked at him in surprise, blushing, he said, "I'm serious."  


"What happens when we get well?" She stared at her pancakes instead of looking at him in the easy way she had fallen into over the past few weeks.  


"I don't know if I'll ever be well enough to be apart from you again, Teresa."  


She raised her head now, lips parted in shock at his words, looking into his eyes to be certain of his meaning.  


"I don't really want to try," he continued. "Why invite any more pain into life?" He tried to gauge her reaction. "Look. I-I don't care to change our arrangement. It's making me very happy. I feel better than I have since, well, since you know when. I'm happy, Lisbon. You make me happy. I don't want to be apart from you. You're my health."  


"I don't want to change, either."  


"Then we won't."  


"But . . . " What if he wanted to date? What if she did? Somehow, she couldn't imagine it.  


"I promise not to interfere with your life. Or any changes you may want to make in the future. I just don't want to change it until that time comes."  


"But . . . "  


Jane put his hands in his lap and bowed his head. "Of course, you can say no." If it was bad news, he didn't think he could look at her face.  


"But I want you to interfere in my life. Your interference probably saved my life. You only ever want what you think is good for me, Jane. I know I can say no. You can say no to me." She reached a hand across the table. "So, we're agreed, right? We don't change a thing unless something changes everything. Okay?"  


Finally looking up, Jane saw her reaching for him, smiled and placed his hand on hers, giving it a little squeeze. "Okay. Agreed."  


"I don't care how confusing it gets. We'll sort it out. And we have to have what we need for right now. We have to."  


That night was Lisbon's place. Jane fell asleep on the couch and didn't rouse easily, so Lisbon went to bed ahead of him.  


"LISBON!" The cry was bloodcurdling, and Lisbon jerked into a sitting position before she even awoke. He called for her again and she ran. As she rounded the couch to get to Jane, he rolled off it screaming as if he'd fallen from a cliff. He landed with a loud, "Oof!" and woke up, disoriented and afraid.  


Lisbon was already touching his face, trying to comfort him.  


"What happened? Where were you? Why weren't you here?" He looked at the couch and realized what had happened. "Why wasn't I in there? Why didn't you wake me to go to bed with you?"  


"I'm so sorry. I tried to, but you were sleeping so soundly and you didn't wake right away and I didn't have the heart to make you get up and come to bed." She held his head still, using his hands to make him look at her. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. It's okay now. You were dreaming, but it's over. I promise I won't ever do that again."  


Feeling a little embarrassed at his outburst, Jane took her hands, holding them in his lap and using the moment to break Lisbon's gaze. "It's okay. It's okay, Lisbon. I understand. I might have done the same."  


"No. You never would have. You would have carried me if you had to."  


"But you can't carry me."  


"No. I'd have to make you get up and walk. I will next time. I promise."  


He saw the distress in her face and gentled her with his hand on her cheek. "It's okay. Let's go to sleep."  


Lisbon threw herself onto him, crying, forcing him back to the floor, his arms naturally curling around her. "No, Lisbon, don't cry. Please don't cry. It's all right. Everything is okay."  


"I'm sorry," she sobbed into his shirt.  


"I know. You don't think I know, baby? It's okay. Honest. Now let's go to bed and forget all about it. We're still learning how to take care of each other. We'll get better at it. You know we will."  


"I know."  


He felt her nose rub against the front of his shirt. "Are you rubbing snot on me, Lisbon?"  


She giggled.  


"That's more like it. Let's not worry about things we've already fixed. Huh? It's fixed. It's over. And I have to change my shirt for bed anyway. Snot washes out, right?"  


She got off of him and play-kicked him gently with her bare toes. When she reached a hand down, he grabbed her arm and she used her body as a fulcrum to help him up. His thrill was warm, sharp . . . realizing just how well this strong woman knew how to manage someone of his size.  


Changing into his sleep clothes, Jane crawled into bed and, taking her hand, kissed the knuckles and lowered their hands together, keeping his connection to her the remainder of the night. Lisbon fell into a light snore until her sinuses, swollen from her cry, normalized. Jane was in a deep snuffle of his own by that time.  


Lisbon awoke with his face tucked at her neck, his body angled away from her, but his breath ruffling her hair and tickling her face. She kissed him lightly on the cheek and got up.  


Shortly, Jane came padding out in his flip-flops. "It's Sunday," he announced. "Park or beach?"  


"What?"  


"Do you want to go to the park, or do you want to go to the beach?"  


"Hmmmm. You're giving me choices of what to do with my day, is that it?" She studied him with humor, seeing his anticipation. "Beach, I guess. I haven't been for ages."  


"Good! Let's pack a cooler for lunch. We can get drive-thru for breakfast and coffee, and make it to the beach by mid-morning, maybe get a good spot before the crowd."  


He made sure she was slathered with sunscreen and kept it on, knowing she would burn in fifteen minutes if unprotected. He allowed her to coat his shoulders and back, then covered his face and nose. The sea was so cool and refreshing, really a little too chilly, but Lisbon spent most of her time walking the beach or chasing waves, soaking in the shallows when she wanted to cool down. Jane swam further out, body surfing in to her at intervals, all goose flesh, then walking with her after lunch.  


They enjoyed looking at each other with more layers than usual peeled off. Quite familiar by now with each other's basic shapes, Lisbon was taken by his little bit of tummy and was glad he wasn't constantly trying to make it hard by lifting weights. And his hair that sprang into golden curls as it dried. Jane delighted in her pixie stature, perfectly proportioned everywhere, just smaller scale. He loved her long brown locks, wet against her head, the chestnut waves windblown in the drying sun, dancing on her back and shoulders. Her nose pinking up under raised freckles.  


Stopping for ice cream on the way back, they picked up big salads in a drive-thru for a late dinner, napping sea-sated on the couch with the television low until they got hungry. They went in to work the next day with the same sun-kissed coloring and easy, hapless grin. The team smiled into their coffee cups.  


One night Lisbon fell asleep against Jane's shoulder watching a late movie. It started to be uncomfortable for him, so he shifted her away, lifting his shirt to scratch his belly with his free hand. Only half-awake, she looked at him as if confused and, noticing his empty lap, fell softly into it, using his thigh for a pillow. He wasn't surprised. This had happened many times by now and he had done the same with her.  


But this time, her silky long hair fanned across his exposed belly, tickling and settling like spilt chocolate in a pool on his bare skin. His muscles tensed against the sensation as he felt himself go hard. He tried to breathe through it, willing himself to relax and mentally rerouting the flow of blood in his body. Her head lay against his pelvis, her cheek on top of his firm flesh, breathing warm sweet breath all over it. He made himself stop thinking about that and finally calmed down without waking her. But when she burrowed her head into him like a favorite pillow, he quickly roused her and, standing up, said he was going to bed.  


Lifting her head to look at the television screen, she said, "But your movie's not over. You always finish a movie."  


"Not tonight. Too tired. I'm going to shower and go to bed. You coming?"  


"In a minute."  


Picking up the room and finishing the kitchen for the night, Lisbon came to bed, Jane already under the covers with his back to her. She snuggled her back to his and fell asleep.  


"Let me go! No! Get away!" She tried to kick him, but he only sneered and pointed a gun at her. It looked strange, the barrel too big and it wasn't shaped like any gun she'd seen before. Suddenly he fired it and a blur of color flew at her, sinking into the muscle at her chest near the arm. It burned! Her consciousness swirled like a milkshake as she fought to stay awake, clawing at the dart over her breast. Then all was black. But this time, she felt his hands take hold of her! "No! Let me alone!"  


"Lisbon. Lisbon, wake up. You're dreaming."  


She struggled. Who was that?  


"C'mon, wake up now. Everything's okay. You're safe now."  


Jane? "Jane! You're here! You saved me!"  


"You're still dreaming, sweetheart, wake up now." He felt her relaxing as he sat up and drew her into his arms. "That's it. "  


She crawled into his lap and rested her head on his chest. "That was awful!"  


"I know. It must have been really scary. You're all sweaty."  


Stiffening, she tried to move away from him, but he held her too firmly. "I'm sorry. I'll change my clothes."  


"No! No, that's not what I meant, Lisbon. Just stay here and calm down first. Then you can get up and do whatever you need to, okay?"  


Relenting, she snuggled back into him.  


"You smell like apples. Like . . . sweaty apples," he snickered.  


"Oh, funny."  


"What? I like sweaty apples. They're . . . warm!"  


"Jane?"  


"What, hon?"  


"I'm glad you're here. I'm glad you've got me."  


"I told you, Lisbon. I'll always be here for you. As long as you want me to." He kissed her forehead near the temple, picking up her salt as she hugged him tight. "Mmmmmmm. Salt lick."  


"All right. Let me up. I need to go wash my face and freshen up."  


He released her then, but continued to sample the taste in his mouth. Lisbon's taste.


	3. Chapter 3

Lisbon left for work first the next morning. Grabbing her things, she turned to Jane and without thinking held her face up to him, eyes closed and lips puckered for a good-bye kiss. Jane, eyes wide, bussed her mouth and watched her smile happily as she turned away and left the apartment. His heart sang as he licked his lips, hunting for the salty taste that wasn't there.  


They spent the next night in his motel room. She came from the shower in her now standard garb of brief sleep shorts and a tank top. Instead of snuggling in for sleep, she made him sit up and crawled into his lap again.  


As he settled his arms around her, she wrapped hers around his neck, pulling her face close to his ear. "I've been having some very un-sisterly thoughts about you."  


When he turned his face to her in surprise, she caught his lips and kissed them lightly, lowering her head and feeling the rise of his chest, heart pounding against her as his breath sped up. Shifting her in his arms, he bent down to kiss her again, lingering until she parted her lips and he accepted her invitation to deepen the kiss, his tongue searching her . . . for that taste. He couldn't find it, but stopped caring.  


"Does this feel brotherly to you," he purred, turning her body and lifting it slightly to rub his erection underneath the cheeks of her covered fanny.  


"Noooo."  


Settling her back into his lap, they kissed for a long time before he slid his hand under her shirt, along the skin of her belly and then her ribs, skimming her breasts and focusing on the tight nipples. Lisbon gasped and writhed in his arms, so he petted her skin with his large hands instead, smoothing her belly and side until she relaxed again, enjoying his mouth.  


Breaking the kiss to squeeze her tight, Jane confessed to her, "Oh, Lisbon, I love you so much. So much."  


"I know. I love you, too. You know how much."  


"Yes."  


Setting her feet flat against the mattress, Lisbon lifted her hips, tucking her hands over his shoulders to support herself.  


Jane covered the flat elastic at her waist with his hand and started pushing her shorts down, sliding them to her knees. Then, taking her mouth again, he pulled them completely off. She bent her legs to help him, and kicked the shorts to the side. Catching the hem of her tank, he slid it off as she wriggled her arms free of it, and he let it drop over the side of the bed.  


He took a moment to look at his naked Teresa, in his arms, lying across his lap and panting for him. Gasping as he allowed his eyes to savor her perfect breasts, tantalizing himself with his only first time to see them revealed. He wanted to devour them and he wanted to stop time so that he would never have to move from this moment as they shook in the subdued light, milky white and freckled, each tipped with a tiny pink rosebud of a nipple, reaching to him as her arousal dimpled the rest of the pale aureoles.  


Kissing her, kissing her, he couldn't stop while his hands roamed freely at her breasts, her writhing and moaning spurring him on. He stroked the full length of her flank and slipped his hand under the cheek of her hip to travel the length of her thigh.  


It was then that Lisbon lifted her knee and let her leg rest open, inviting his hand. Suddenly, Jane couldn't get enough air, breaking their kiss to heave oxygen into his lungs as he looked at what she offered him. First he covered her whole sex with his hand, feeling its plumpness, rubbing the meat of his hand over the short curl of hair. She pushed into him, opening further and he slipped a finger deep into her cleft, feeling the hard lump of her clitoris at the base of his finger and sinking into the well of her moisture with the tip.  


"Oh god. Lisbon. You feel so good in here."  


"I feel so good with your hand on me, Patrick. Touch me. Touch my vulva and my clitoris and put your fingers in me. I want you to."  


The words of her anatomy and her direct request for his touch undid him. He explored her, petting her outside and finding places with his long fingers inside that stilled her, quivering. When he brought her moisture to the surface again, he caught her clit in the pressure between two fingers and rubbed back and forth, listening to her mewl until she cried out and came against his hand.  


"You're beautiful, so beautiful," he told her as he soothed her sex through the fading spasms. He gazed at her, eyes like banked green embers under her lashes, looking lazily at him through half-closed lids. Lips kissed scarlet glowed against her creamy skin, and the dark unending waves of hair spread wantonly across his chest and arms, damp at her hairline. A flush like rose petals stippled her chest and neck, dressing her arousal.  


Her hands reached for him and caught his neck when he bent. She kissed him and then used him as a fulcrum to swing her body lightly from his lap. She lay on her side, propping her head on a bent arm. She stroked the inside of his thighs, signaling her intention to touch him as intimately as he had her.  


"You have to know how close I am."  


"I'll go easy on you." She smiled up at him, catching the twinkle in his eye.  


"It won't help."  


"Oh, I bet I can help a lot."  


Continuing to rub his thighs, her hands sledding across the golden hair, she dipped her thumbs into the creases at his pelvis, brushing against his already lifting testicles. He groaned and widened his legs. She accepted his invitation to go further and stroked his rigid shaft with her fingertips, careful not to scrape him with her nails. He felt like satin over granite, hard and infinitely soft at the same time. Someday soon that would pound into her. But for now she wanted to explore, to know this part of him. Putting a hand around him, she squeezed gently and felt him harden even more, using her other hand to pet the crimson head until it ran with clear juices.  


"I want you to come!" she said from deep in her throat, looking at him with feral green fire. She stroked him in earnest now, moving the skin of his cock with her hand as she pulled on him, calling his ecstasy.  


"Uuuuuuunh! Ah! Okay. I'm coming for you! Uh, uh, uh, uh . . . " Jane panted, then made a strangled sound and Lisbon felt him pulse in her hand as he began to shoot great jets onto his chest, moaning rhythmically. She caught one in her hand. Poking him to open his eyes and watch her, she showed his semen dripping from her fingers and brought her hand slowly down to drip it on her open, swollen sex, painting her vulva and, when she exposed it, her standing clitoris, swirls of cream against her pink skin.  


He fell on her, helpless in his love and spent desire, searching for and finding her lips, but she was talking.  


"I love you. I love you with all my heart, Patrick," she said. "I will always love you."  


He stopped her talking then, taking control of a long, deep kiss.  


Later, before they drifted to sleep, Lisbon asked, "Is this a change? Is this something that changes everything and we have to re-think our arrangement?"  


"Not at all. We're still sleeping together, right?" He pulled her into the spoon of his belly.  


Cho watched them come in to work the next morning, both with reddened lips and color in their cheeks. He smirked knowingly, but reminded himself that they hadn't passed his first beginner's sex test yet. They were still walking normally.  


"I need to go clothes-shopping, " Lisbon announced over breakfast Saturday morning.  


"Can I go with?"  


"You want to go shopping for clothes with me."  


"Well, I could use a few things, yes. Is that so shocking?"  


"I want to go to a few of the smaller, dressier boutiques. Is that okay with you?" She looked doubtfully at him, but was surprised at his reaction.  


"Oh! Oh!" Jane exclaimed excitedly. "Will you buy a dress? I'll take you dancing if you buy a dress!"  


"A dress? I don't know . . . " She imagined going dancing with Jane. He was such a romantic man . . . he'd be such a charmer dressed up and sporting her on his arm.  


"Pleeeeeeeeeese. Please, Teresa."  


"Alright, yes. I'll buy a dress. Why do I have the feeling you want me in a dress just so you can seduce me out of it?"  


"Because you know me so well?"  


Lisbon smirked at him.  


"It would be a very nice way start to our first . . . time."  


"You want to consummate our relationship, Patrick?"  


"What? We aren't consummated?"  


"Well, not exactly."  


"Then, yes! Absolutely. Let's do it!" He swept her into his arms, lifting her for a twirl around the kitchen. "I want to bury myself and shoot everything I've got into you a million times until we're both senseless!" He was grinning like a fool, kissing wetly all over her face.  


"Way to romance the girl, Jane. I'm falling for all your sweet-talk." Lisbon rolled her eyes over a grin as big as his. She knew who she had, and she was very happy with him.  


Jane was tireless and unflappable the entire trip. He bought himself a pair of jeans and two new casual shirts, then watched as Lisbon modeled dress after dress until they both agreed on one. He wanted to take her ballroom dancing, and this burnt orange number with spaghetti straps and a swirling skirt that barely covered her knees was just the thing! It set off her green eyes like nothing he'd ever seen!  


"What about shoes?" he asked.  


"You want to shop for shoes, too?"  


"I think there was a pair at that last shop that will be just the thing, if you like them."  


They were perfect, of course, a deep, warm sienna, just the right shade, with gold soles. A good dancing height at about two and a half inches, high enough to show off the dress and her legs under it, but not too strenuous or difficult to dance in. She chose a gold shawl to match them. Patrick bought a pair of very nice black dress shoes and a black tie with flecks of sienna at the men's shop next door.  


Their delight in dancing together bubbled like the champagne in their glasses. Jane was graceful and fluid, moving Lisbon around the floor like a pro. Lisbon found his signals clear, easy to follow and his style inventive but not at all tricky. She felt free in her lovely dress, her legs cool under it in the open air, the skirt swirling around her hips and legs as she moved so gracefully with him. Jane found the brush of it against his legs tantalizing, erotic. The evening was punctuated with affection, hugs and kisses that became as natural as being together.  


At the band's first break, the couple stepped outside for some cool air.  


"You're a great dancer, Lisbon. I'm surprised. I didn't think it would be your thing."  


"The one thing my Mom had always wanted me to do. 'When you're 16, Teresa, you'll learn to dance like the graceful woman you'll be.' I did it for her. It's been awhile, but you don't forget a thing like that. Especially if you have a great partner!" Her eyes sparkled with pleasure.  


Jane lifted her hand, made a little bow and kissed it to show his pleasure in her compliment. "Thank you. The pleasure is all mine."  


She smiled at him as he let go of her hand. He looked gorgeous in his elegant black suit, beautiful new shoes and a tie that picked up the color of her shoes. "Ballroom dancing is nice. Very civilized. It has rules, but you can still be creative if you follow them. I like it."  


"Lift up your dress for me."  


"What? Jane . . . stop."  


"I just want to see under your dress. Show me!" He picked up the hem and she swatted his hand away. "Please, Lisbon. You look beautiful in that dress, so tempting, so alluring. We all have that thing, that flips our switch, yeah? This is one of mine!"  


"Not here!"  


"Where?"  


"Not now!"  


"The back, then. Let me look under your dress at the back." He stepped around and picked up the hem at the back.  


She swirled to face him, holding the dress down with her arm. "No!" Her cheeks were red, her brow furrowed, but her eyes brightened over a wriggling smile she couldn't control.   


"Oh, Lisbon, it's exciting to get a peek under your girl's skirt in public!"  


"We're not in elementary school!"  


"You were doing that in elementary school? I'm shocked!" He grinned at her slyly and raised an eyebrow. "You're a fast woman, Teresa."  


He watched delightedly as she blushed scarlet, face, neck, chest and even shoulders!  


"Oh, my! What did you do?"  


"Nothing! None of your business! Stop it! You'll make me cry in a minute. Your teasing is too frustrating, Jane. You have to stop now. You're overwhelming me. But you're making me mad, too. I may punch you in the nose instead, or slap your face. I don't want you to push me that far. It would ruin the evening."  


"Awwww. Okay. Calm down, little bird." Bringing her into the circle of his arms, he hugged her lightly and soothed her like a bird that had ruffled its feathers into chaos, running his hands gently down her back and arms. "I'm sorry if I went too far." He kissed the corners of her mouth until she turned to him, green eyes shadowed by her dark lashes, but shining with reflected light. "Kiss me, little bird."  


Pressing her lips to his, she kissed him and ran her tongue along the seam of his mouth. He opened and captured her tongue, pulling her tighter against his chest. Slowly, he released her. "Thank you for telling me all about it, what you were feeling, Lisbon. It helps."  


Letting go of him, she stepped away to a darker area by the bushes.  


"Where are you going?"  


She just crooked her finger at him. As he approached, she raised the skirt of her dress to the waist, revealing stockings, a nun-white garter belt and white lacy panties. Jane stopped in his tracks to stare at what she was showing him, what he had asked her, what he wanted to see. His mouth watered and he swallowed hard. "Ohhhhhhhh." He sighed. "I can die now."  


"Stop! Don't say such things. Anyway, it's not so earth-shattering as all that." She dropped the skirt.  


When Jane approached, he took her hand, pulling her in for another long kiss. "I love you." He pressed his hips against her so that she could feel how much she had pleased him.  


"I hadn't figured you for a dog, Patrick Jane." His name was hushed breath in her mouth and he felt his heart try to jump the fence of his chest.  


"Lisbon . . ." he murmured, drawing her tighter.  


"I like my dog . . ."  


In a few minutes they went in for the rest of the dance. Lisbon felt gooey in more ways than one and wished she had a fan to cool her neck and chest, already flushed and patterned in variegated pink! That man!  


As soon as he had shut the door to her apartment, Jane hurried behind Lisbon and lifted her skirt. This time she let him look as long as he liked, shifting her legs to make her hips roll. He placed both hands on the luscious lace-covered globes, reigned in by the garter belt, running his fingers under its stretchy straps. He returned to her bottom, feeling and massaging the cheeks thoroughly until she felt numb and expected her juices to be running to her knees any moment. When he showed no signs of satiating, she turned to face him, taking the skirt from his fingertips.  


"Patrick Jane, you are entirely too naughty!"  


He swooped towards her, taking her into his arms. "But that's what you like best about me, right?" He kissed her hard before she could answer and pressed himself, fully erect against her belly. He saw a little flash of anxiety in her eyes and loosened the pressure of his hold on her, making it easy to escape him if she chose. She didn't. Instead she approached him almost shyly for a kiss and deepened it when he responded.  


Removing his jacket and freeing his tie, she set them both carefully on the back of the armchair. She undid the cuffs of his shirt, kissing his hands lavishly, touching and caressing them, telling him how beautiful they were and how good they had been to her. Jane was in her thrall.  


Opening his shirt, she caressed his erect nipples and ran her hands around his ribcage, embracing him and touching every inch of bare skin as he rested his hands on her naked shoulders, running his thumbs under the thin straps of the dress. Resting her cheek on his bare chest for a few moments she focused on his nipples next, tonguing them as attentively as if they belonged to a woman and he responded just as fully to every kiss and nibble and especially to suckling by her fleshy warm lips. He was moaning her name before she ever opened his trousers.  


She paused there as Patrick moved to express his passion, moving his hands over her bodice and cupping her breasts, firm and plump under the silky fabric. Locating her zipper at the side, loud even as he took it slowly down and slipped his hand in to caress her bare back. His free hand pushed the straps from her shoulders so that he could kiss them unimpeded. He bent over her, angling the hand inside her dress to trace the curve of her hip, fingering the border of the embroidered garter belt. He whined as he touched its lacy edge.  


Running his hands up her sides and nudging her arms into the air, he slipped the dress over her head and set it carefully with his jacket. He couldn't take his eyes off her breasts, round and full, tightening in the cool air. Before he could touch them, she slid his shirt off and put it on top of her dress. As Jane drew her close, Lisbon bent back a little way so that she could brush her breasts against his chest, sighing at the skin-to-skin contact. She pushed his pants down while she was there and, shaking them free of his hips and legs, he let them drop to his ankles, stepping out.  


"Let's go to the bedroom," he said, bending down to remove her shoes as she held each tiny foot up in turn, balancing with her hand on his shoulder. He took her hand and led the way, urging her to lie down and she complied.  


He knelt on the floor and shimmied his hands under the garter belt to find the waist of her panties and pull them down. Carefully undoing the garter clips, he took the panties off and re-fastened her stockings.  


"Please take off your shorts and come be with me, Patrick. I'm all but naked now."  


"You're perfect," he said, looking at her sex glistening below the white embroidery that graced the curling tuft of hair she kept. Jane got on the bed and lay quietly next to her, toying with her breasts  


Lisbon turned to her side to softly brush the front of his balls with the outside of her fingers, then trailed up the shaft of his penis. He was rock-hard and leaking from the tip and she relished his satiny skin. She left the plump head alone, then shifted to stroke his long flank and pet his belly and thighs.  


He sighed and moved his hand between her legs, spending only a moment testing there, knowing he would find the wet and the hard nub sitting above it. Then he lazily trailed his fingers down her stockinged legs as far as he could reach, creating a tiny buzz with his fingerprints that both flowed up his arm and her leg to her core. She pushed her hips forward. Pulling on the elastic garters, he let them snap against her leg to see her reaction. To his surprise, she sighed and squirmed, so he repeated the snap and did the same on the other leg.  


"Do you know how sexy you are, especially with your wet lips peeking out at me from under this chaste white garter belt?"  


"No," she said tentatively. "How sexy?"  


He pressed low on her mound and made the flesh yield like firm pudding, pushing it into a circling massage of her hidden clitoris.  


"Aahhhhnnh." She moaned several times as he continued and her legs relaxed open to him. "Kiss me."  


She felt him move toward her face. "No. Down there. Please."  


"Mmmmmmm. I was hoping you would ask." From the first moment he put his tongue on Teresa, he was flooded with the memory of her taste, of licking the salt on her temple one night when she woke up sweaty from a bad dream. He filled his tongue with it, holding her hips, his large hands nearly circling the garter belt, lapping and lapping until her hips undulated and she shook against his mouth, crying out as an orgasm took her. He quickly moved to her breasts, teasing her nipples with his lips and tongue until she pulled him up for a long kiss.  


"That was wonderful, so wonderful."  


"Keep talking to me." Hovering over her for a moment, he lodged the head of his penis in the well of her core and nudged her.  


"Ohhhhh. Come in, Patrick!"  


Dipping his hips, he thrust into her about half way and dallied there, moving slightly in and out several times, savoring her for the first time. She was swollen and hot and slick, irresistible. He tamped down the blue spark that threatened to fire and drive him to ravage her. Unless she wanted it that way their first time. It would be romance, their story, either way or any way in between.  


"Don't tease me. I know you're holding back half of that fat cock. Please. I want to feel all of you. But take it slow."  


"I just wanted to know how you wanted it tonight."  


"I want you, just you. Slow and easy so I feel every inch."  


Propped on his elbows, he slowly slid in, then pushed to the bottom of her. She gasped and wrapped her legs around his waist forcing him even deeper and snugging in to his balls. Now it was Jane's turn to gasp and groan. He had never felt anything quite like this! The gentle susurrus of Lisbon's stockings moving on his thighs invited him to frenzy.  


Ten years. Ten years of learning to be with her had led to this moment. She had accepted him as her lover, probably her mate and soon, if he was lucky, her husband. His thrill was total and almost rapturous, commanding his mind as well as his senses, making his heart a gaping wound, flowing with love for her that could never have been recovered if she had rejected him.  


She arched and froze, holding him in a deep interior hug, squeezing him in rhythm with his own heartbeat. He let his orgasm claim him, washing her inside as he collapsed against her. She breathed out the last of her orgasm and lowered her legs limply to the bed. Lisbon clung to him as he rolled off so that both faced each other, caressing and kissing until they fell asleep.  


Jane woke and recognized the sound of Lisbon fretting in her sleep.  


"Hot! Hot!" she cried, her legs thrashing.  


Jane pulled the covers off to see she still wore her garter belt and stockings. "Shhh, shhhh, Lisbon. Your legs are covered, that's all. You still have your stockings on. I'm taking them off now."  


"Can I be completely naked now?"  


He had to smile. "Of course you can." Quickly detaching the stockings from the garters, he slipped them down her legs. Carefully. He wanted to see these things again! Opening the garter belt, he tugged it from her hips and tossed it to the floor. Even in this light he could see markings on her delicate skin and knew they must be a little itchy, so he gently rubbed her to relieve it, paying special attention to her stomach because she sighed and relaxed when he brushed his hand there. When she had cooled down and turned to him for warmth, he kissed her, covered her again and fell asleep. She had never even awoken.  


Getting up in the morning was not pleasant for either of them. They were stiff and sore, moving slowly to avoid sudden jolts of pain from muscles unused to lovemaking.  


They had plenty of time before work. Lisbon suggested "the hair of the dog." Jane caught her meaning immediately, dropping his underwear and peeling off his shirt, saying, "Come and show me what you want."  


Lisbon walked over and started kissing him, working his cock as Jane removed her clothing enough to make it easy for her to shrug or kick it off. "We did it my way last night. I want you to have your wish now."  


"I won't waste time being polite by demurring then. I want you hard. I want to pin you to the mattress and make you scream, Teresa Lisbon. I want to turn you to butter."  


Lisbon stared at him, gaping. Then her mouth resolved into a sly smile and she took off running, calling back to Jane, "Get in here! We don't want to be late for work!"  


When he entered the room, he found Lisbon wiggling her hand between her legs and pinching a nipple.  


"Getting a head start?"  


"Look at yourself! You're standing straight up. I just want to catch up!"  


Jane pulled the pillow from her head, rolled her up and positioned it under her hips. As he leaned over to kiss her, propped on one hand, he used the other to guide himself in. She felt like hot liquid satin and he began rolling in and out of her raised pelvis, coating himself with her juices and then gave her everything he had, pummeling her clitoris every time he rammed into her. She was panting in no time, tugging and rolling her nipples while he loomed over her, driving and driving between her legs.  


When she started to whine he altered his position to straddle her instead, forcing her legs together so that he could fuck her high and shove his full length along her clit as he drove in. He was almost squatting over her as his leg and back muscles strained to give his hips the needed power. But he was rewarded when Lisbon threw her arms out against the mattress and began to call loudly from her throat in the rhythm of an orgasm that echoed in her pulsing grip on his rigid flesh. With a low cry, he released, sounding as if he was being relieved of great pain, great sighs as he emptied into her.  


"God, Lisbon, let's just stay home and do this all day."  


"First chance we get, Patrick. I want more of this. God! But we need to go in today."  


Conceding, he pulled out of her and stood by the bed to help her up.  


"Oh! My legs, my back!" Lisbon winced as she let him pull her out of bed.  


"My hips and my back! Let's get in the shower and see if some hot water will help."  


Cho followed Lisbon to her office as she came in. She walked stiffly and sat carefully at her desk, releasing a grunt of pain as she tried to settle in the chair. When she noticed him looking at her, she said, "New exercise regimen. It's very vigorous."  


"Oh. Well, I'm sure it will get better as you practice more."  


Lisbon looked at him sharply to see if he was letting her know he knew the truth, but she could read nothing from his face. When they had conducted their business, Cho went back to the bullpen in time to see Jane brace himself with one arm, the other balancing his rattling cup and saucer, as he tried to sit on his couch, groaning as his legs and back flexed to take the effort.  


Jane looked up to see Cho staring at him. Crap! The man would know immediately that he'd just had a night of sex for the first time since forever. "New exercise regimen," he offered.  


Cho almost laughed. Jane. Exercise. They should have thought this through and put some believable stories together.  


"Both of you? Hunh."  


Jane looked him in the eye calmly but, as proud as he was of his relationship with her, he gave nothing away to compromise Lisbon. Cho just stared calmly back at him. Jane looked away first.  


"Uh-huh," Cho said to himself.  


Even Rigsby noticed the "coincidence" of Boss and Jane's condition. He gave Cho a questioning look.  


"Uh-huh," Cho said, and opened his book. He wasn't going to talk about this.  


When Van Pelt came in, Rigsby made a point to catch her eye, nod towards Lisbon's office and then Jane, already napping on his couch. He made a lewd gesture with his hand, making a hole with one hand and pushing his other forefinger in and out of it. Van Pelt covered her mouth in shock, squealing quietly into it. Jane sighed loudly and turned his back to the rest of the team.  


"Have the courtesy not to gossip about people when they're right in the room with you!" he said, and went to sleep.


End file.
